


Some Like it Hot

by Xerxia



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9277853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xerxia/pseuds/Xerxia
Summary: When the oppressive heat sets their tempers flaring, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark have to find a creative way to cool down...Rated E for language and explicit sexual content.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of my contributions for the fall 2016 version ms2sl.com, in support of Hope for Caroline and other children's charities.

 

[](https://68.media.tumblr.com/45fc1eea25bd5880117b1c538b605eac/tumblr_inline_ojkkv1jXQG1sd8t5x_540.jpg)

The air conditioning was out, again, and Katniss was trapped like a rat in a cage, waiting for the building superintendent to come take a look at it. He’d said he’d be by at 11:30, but it was pushing 1:00 and there was still no sign of him.

 

Peeta was crashing and banging around in the microscopic kitchen of their too-small apartment, further aggravating her. They’d been fighting all day, snapping and snarling, stuck together in the sticky sauna of their third-floor walk-up, barely able to avoid each other. She was desperate to run, to get away from this place and from  _ him _ , but she couldn’t leave until they’d dealt with the damned A/C.

 

She was pacing the fourteen steps between couch and window, back and forth, back and forth, when finally the kitchen clattering stopped. The equally irritating thump-thump-thump of his heavy footfalls followed. 

 

He stomped around the partition that kept the kitchen from view, shirtless and dripping with sweat. In his hands, inexplicably, two tall glasses of lemonade, slick with condensation. He was so angry he couldn’t even look at her. But he made them both lemonade. And from scratch too, the asshole. She snapped.

 

“Why do you always have to be so damned perfect?” He met her gaze then; crystalline blue eyes hard, expression almost haughty. Beads of perspiration rolled down his temple, caressed his clenched jaw. But he said nothing, refused to take to the bait. 

 

She yelled a litany of curse words, stalking towards him, stopping only a few feet away. “Katniss,” he warned. But she couldn't stop. She was hot and frustrated and pissed off as hell and he was  _ there _ . 

 

His nostrils twitched, almost imperceptibly, just the barest hint of movement. But it was enough. She knew she was getting to him. “Stop being so fucking nice!” she growled.

 

Peeta leaned over, setting the glasses on their coffee table with such precision it was as if they might detonate. Two large steps and he was upon her, hands grasping her waist through the thin top she wore. Before she could fathom what was happening, he’d tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of flour and was marching to the bathroom.

 

She pounded her fists against his back, kicking and swearing, but he was undeterred. One strong arm wrapped around her thighs as the other flicked the shower on full-blast.

 

Icy needles of water sluiced up her back and over her ass, soaking her tank and tiny shorts in seconds. Katniss shrieked, squirming and writhing; Peeta simply held her snugly until they were both drenched and her fury had turned to pleading. He slid her down his body, slowly and cautiously, but kept his arm wrapped around her. She reached for the tap as soon as her feet hit the tiles, nudging it left. Only when the water moved from arctic to tolerable did she find her voice.

 

“You asshole,” she seethed. “You dickwad! I can’t fucking believe you-” his lips cut her off, kissing her hard, aggressively. Stealing the complaints from her tongue. When he pulled back just slightly to gasp, she bit him, nipping his bottom lip hard enough to make him yelp.

 

In a flash he’d backed her against the shower wall, catching both of her small hands as she tried to shove him away, pinning them above her head. For several long moments they simply stared at each other, water streaming, chests heaving. “Are you cooled off yet, Sweetheart?” he drawled, and she scowled. 

 

“Fuck you, Peeta.” But he chuckled, and she shook with rage, struggling against him. He moved forward, pressing the hard length of his body against her. Her nipples pebbled with the contact and she bit her cheek, unwilling to let him see the effect he was having. She turned her head stubbornly away. 

 

He shifted, and then both of her wrists were held fast in one of his large hands, freeing the other to slither down her arm, raising goosebumps in its path. He tilted her chin, gently but firmly, and kissed her again. “You are so fucking hot when you're pissed,” he groaned against her lips. “You know what that scowl does to me.”

 

“Peeta,” she whined as his lips moved over her jaw, down her throat, lapping the salt and shower water. “Dammit, I'm mad at you!” 

 

“I know, baby,” he groaned, stretching the strap of her tank aside to expose the soft mound underneath. She keened and bucked against him as his fingers plucked her nipple, sending shocks through her body.

 

He shifted again, twining each of her hands with his own, holding them snugly beside her shoulders as his head dipped to draw her aching nipple into the soothing heat of his mouth. Her own head tipped back, thunking against the tiles as she moaned and panted his name. 

 

“Please let go of my hands,” she whimpered. He straightened, and held her gaze for a moment, considering. Then he loosened his grip, smiling when she didn't immediately rip her hands away. She couldn't resist returning the smile. It was the first real, sweet,  _ Peeta _ smile she'd seen all day. He released her hands slowly, kissing the inside of each wrist. 

 

Her wet tank was off in an instant, falling to the shower floor with a splat, then she tangled her hands in his hair, tugging sharply. Peeta smirked. But when she pushed his head lower, aligning his hot mouth with her other breast he didn’t hesitate. Her back bowed as he lavished attention on each peak in turn, rewarding her hair pulling with a firm press of his teeth. 

 

One hand clutched him tightly to her breast, the other snaked lower, pushing impatiently at the waist of his athletic shorts. A breathless  _ oh fuck _ , fell from her lips when she found him boxer-less, the length of him hard and heavy in her hand. 

 

Peeta groaned as she stroked him. The angle was awkward but he seemed unwilling to stop suckling. “I love your tits,” he grunted against her flesh, even as he thrust repeatedly into her wet palm. She gripped him just a little tighter as his mouth fell open in a near silent moan. “Shit, stop, stop,” he begged breathlessly, pulling her hand away. 

 

He stepped back and kicked off the shorts that had been stubbornly clinging to his knees. She stifled a snort at the wet squelch of them hitting the wall. 

 

She reached for him again but he anticipated her movement, grabbing her hand and spinning her. “Put your hands on the wall,” he commanded, his voice in her ear low and lust-choked. She complied. His chest pressed against her back as he kissed and nibbled the nape of her neck, and his hands snaked around to cup and tweak and stroke her breasts, until she was squirming. 

 

One of his hands slid lower, tickling her belly button, caressing her flat stomach before finally popping the snap on her shorts. He slipped his hand inside, cupping her over her panties, finding her soaked in more ways than one. She rocked against his fingers, seeking more friction, groaning when he pulled away. Then his voice was hot in her ear again. “Do you know how sexy you look in these little shorts?” he breathed as he started to shimmy the clingy bit of denim down her hips. “With your legs that go on forever?” The shorts and her panties rasped over her wet skin, and his slick hands followed, making her shudder. “Fuck, baby, I have been hard for you all damned day.”

 

When finally the fabric barriers fell away he dropped to his haunches behind her. His teeth traced the swell of her ass, the tops of her thighs, her hipbone. Everywhere except where she needed him most. But she wouldn't beg. Not when she was still annoyed. Then he kissed a trail up her spine, across her shoulders, wrapping his arms around her so sweetly. Her eyes slipped closed, the last of her petulance draining away with the cool water.

 

His teeth closing around her earlobe made her cry out, even as she pressed her body back against his. She moaned at the sensation of his cock rubbing the cleft of her ass, wiggling in a silent plea. And she couldn't suppress a smirk as he swore and thrust against her in response. 

 

Finally his fingers parted her folds and his name fell breathlessly from her lips. He teased her clit, rubbing just enough to make her squirm and swear and whine, but not enough to push her over the edge. His other hand stroked her body, igniting her nerve endings, making her tremble. All the while he kept thrusting against her, his cock, hard and ready for her, rubbing so close to where she was desperate to be filled. She was wound up tight as a spring, frustrated, riled, and rattled, ready to snap. Her hands fisted against the tiles. Finally, she couldn’t take it any more. “Peeta, please,” she cried. 

 

He thrust into her waiting heat, so hard, so fast that she gasped, a broken fragment of sound. He froze. “Katniss?” he said, uncertain.

 

“Don’t stop,” she begged. “I need you.” He pumped in and out a few times; slow, tentative strokes, then abruptly withdrew. Her plaintive cry of  _ no _ sounded like a sob. But he only spun her around, meeting her eyes, concern shading his own. Then he cradled her face and kissed her desperately.

 

“I need to see you,” he breathed against her lips. “I need to see your beautiful face when you come.” He eased her leg up, over his elbow. She clung to him, balanced on one foot, pulling frantically at his shoulders. When finally he slid inside her again they both sighed.

 

The angle was clumsy, the water running cold, but the expression on Peeta's handsome face as his cock filled her over and over was worth the discomfort. 

 

His grunts of pleasure, the way his back muscles quivered under her hands, she knew he was close. But she knew she couldn’t get there with him, not tense and teetering on one trembling leg. She tightened her arms around him, sucking on the pulse point in his neck as he babbled bits of incoherence. Then she whispered the words that she knew would push him over the edge. Soft words of love and devotion, plain and heartfelt. He shouted his release, the sound echoing off the tiled wall, sensual music. 

 

She stroked his sopping curls as he panted into her shoulder. “Every time,” he gasped. “You get me every time.” He lifted his head, adoration shone in his expression, love and joy and gratitude. 

 

Peeta pulled out, lowering her leg to the ground and snapping the water off. Then with a squeak she was in his arms again. “Wrap your legs around me, baby,” he said. 

 

His back muscles flexed with barely restrained power as he carried her to their bedroom. She had only a moment to worry about the sheets as he set her, dripping wet, in the centre of their bed. “Peeta?” she questioned, already shifting to climb back off the mattress. 

 

“I need to make you come,” he growled, climbing on top of her, kissing away her weak protests. Then his hands and lips covered her breasts, heating the cold, pebbled flesh, reigniting the fire in her belly. 

 

Peeta was everywhere, slick flesh sliding. She could do nothing but surrender, gripping fistfuls of the bedding. He didn't tease her, didn't make her wait. He drove her thighs apart, lapping at her arousal like a starving man. And when he drew her aching clit into his mouth, humming around the little pearl, she yelled another litany of curse words. 

 

The stress, the irritation, the agitation, the all-encompassing tension of the past hours, days, weeks, all of it snapped as she came, wailing her release. Her hands were tangled in his hair, she could feel him smiling against her flesh as he coaxed more and more aftershocks from her spent body. 

 

Finally he crawled back up her body, pulling her into the comfort of his embrace. Kissing away the tears that escaped the corners of her eyes. “Better?” he murmured. She could only nod. “I love you, Katniss,” he said, lips brushing her temple. 

 

“Even when I'm bitchy?” She tried for levity, but only sounded small. Uncertain. 

 

“Especially when you're bitchy,” he admitted with a smile. 

 

They fell silent. No longer wet and chilled, but not yet overheated again, for a few minutes they simply enjoyed being pressed together, chastely touching each other. 

 

Finally the oppressive heat overcame them and they rolled apart. But Peeta grabbed her hand, forcing her to face him. As he played with her fingers, spinning the bands encircling them, he softly asked, “What's really going on, Love?”

 

She shrugged, intending on brushing his gentle concern off, like she'd been doing all day. But his gorgeous eyes, blue and brimming with love, were impossible to refuse. “I want to go home, Peeta,” she said plaintively, like a small child.

 

His eyes softened. “We will, soon. I promise.” He leaned in and kissed her.

 

“I want to go home now,” she said, her bottom lip trembling. Despite the sticky heat he pulled her snugly against him, surrounding her in comfort. “I’m just so homesick, Peeta,” she confessed. “It’s always hot here. Hot and loud and crowded, and I miss my woods. I miss our mountains.”

 

They were sixteen months into his 24 month contract, living in a concrete jungle so completely opposite to the lush green mountains of Panem, where they grew up together, and where their families still lived.

 

She’d tried so hard not to complain about it. But the oppressive heat was making her crazy, the walls of their tiny rental apartment closing in on her. She felt like she hadn’t seen a tree or lake in a hundred years. The air conditioning breaking was simply the last straw.

 

“You know I’m not really upset with you, right?” she whispered. He shrugged, unconvincingly. “I'm sorry, Peeta,” she said, kissing her remorse into his shoulder. “I didn't mean to take it out on you. I'm really proud of the work you're doing here.”

 

He kissed her hard, she could taste his relief. “I know it's difficult being here. Maybe we could go away next weekend,” he said, a little breathless from the kiss. “Rent a car, drive out to the  _ parque nacionales _ ? It wouldn't be exactly like the woods at home, but…” he trailed off as a huge grin spread across her face. 

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, and then she was kissing him again, smiling so broadly their teeth knocked together. 

 

“I would love that,” Katniss breathed. Despite the heat, she climbed on top of Peeta, pressing him into the mattress and pinning his wrists, an echo of their time in the shower. His eyes twinkled with mirth, but he didn't resist. She leaned down to kiss him, soft pecks that rapidly increased in intensity. He responded eagerly, groaning as she rocked over him, her slick lips bathing his hardening cock. 

 

“Katniss,” he groaned, arching against her. “I hate fighting with you.” 

 

“Me too,” she gasped. She lifted just enough to slide him inside, and they both moaned. 

 

As she sat up to ride him, hips swivelling sinuously he smirked. “But I sure love making up.”


End file.
